Reflection
by Valentine1
Summary: "Are you afraid of me, then, mirror? Afraid I'll right go and break you to pieces? Well you should be, because I would! I'd like to right now infact."


**Disclaimer:** HP is copyrighted to the brilliant genius of Mrs. J.K. Rowling; I only threw in a plot. Anything you don't recognize, however, is probably mine. 

**Reflection   
  
Prologue - Glass   
**

  
  
  


***

I look like a frog. 

The mirror began to cloud letting a dull-looking white fog creep slowly from the edges, searing my reflection, until all I could see were those huge blinking eyes. I fear I'll scare someone off, if they ever chance to see me at night. Absolutely horrid. That's all I have to say. 

"Are you afraid of me, then, mirror? Afraid I'll right go and break you to pieces? Well you should be, because I would! I'd like to right now infact." 

So stupid. 

I can't talk to mirrors. 

This isn't Hogwarts. 

It's a house, a plain ordinary house at that. With plain little shutters, plain rooms, and a plain little girl to live in it. The mirrors don't talk back around here. And I rather like it that way, if you don't mind my saying so. 

A lump started to form at the back of my throat, while I stared blindly at the piece of glass. My eyes closed momentarily, and I tried to swallow back the feeling that was sinking in. I could feel the tears, fighting to come down. They left a burning sensation behind my eyes, until I almost wanted to scream out. My teeth flew down to my lip, and bit back furiously until I felt a soft warm liquid flowing into my mouth. 

"Honey?!" A loud voice crept up from the stairway. There was contempt in what would have been a sweet name. It was always there, lying beneath what they said. I could sense it. Always. 

I heard myself sigh, and looked back at the fogged up mess once more. There was a bit of a dribble forming on my mouth, and I quickly wiped it away with the arm of my sleeve. The door swung open not preventing, even once, the high-pitched squeal that it always emitted. At least the door gave a warning. 

"Where have you been hiding out all day? You know, I get worried." 

"I'm not hiding, mother. I've only been sitting here all day. How is that worrying you? It's my room, is it not?" I tried to appear calm, I didn't want to let anything on. 

"You don't go around talking to your mother like that! Look at me when I speak to you, look!" Her sharp nails grasped my chin, and pulled me up hard until I was forced to face her. 

"I'm not hiding." I repeated. 

Her eyes darted at such a speed, and with such a malignant glare, that I almost wanted to turn away. I couldn't of course. My face was close to being severed by her hands. I continued to stare at her, earnestly, I had nothing to lie about. Not to this woman who stood there. "Why won't you talk to me?" Was her final answer. The corners of her eyes were turned down, along with the points of her mouth. It made that tacky red lipstick look as if she had smeared it. 

"I am," was all that I chose to say before I pulled her fingers away from me. The rings on her knuckles banged loudly together, her hands fell lifeless. 

We stood there staring at each other, without a word in the world to say, both of us still. Both of us sad in that strange way. She tried to break the awkwardness of the moment,"Well are you ready?" 

"I've got my trunk packed, with all my supplies and belongings, if that's what you mean." I spoke, in response. 

"Good girl." I backed away slowly to avoid being patted on the back, or anything of that sort. 

"You can go now." I said, almost irratibly and then turned away dissmisively to busy myself with the bookshelf. My hand paused in midair, just before I was about to set it down, waiting for her to leave. 

"Do you really just sit here all day?" I didn't think she was going to leave just yet. I couldn't let myself believe that. There had to be somewhere from which I had inherited my stubborness. Her feet were still firmly rooted to their spot. 

"Yes." I answered. "You can go now." 

"I guess I better be leaving." She replied acting as if I had never even spoken. There wasn't any yelling, I was glad of that. I didn't want anymore, so I kept my mouth shut. "Night." 

"'Good night, mother." I whispered loudly, and dropped my hand to rest at last on the book. I heard her footsteps retreating. No doubt she was muttering some sort of complaint. 

I turned to look at the mirror one last time. The fog hadn't left. With a cold finger, I drew small letters on it's surface. 

_I am Lavender Brown._

Seeing the letters printed over my face. I let them seal my indentity. "That's all I am." And, those tears that I had been holding back dropped down onto my cheeks. This time I did nothing to prevent them. 


End file.
